Saturday, April 5, 2014

As promised... The prologue to Love is Bleeding. Book 4 in the Croft & Croft Series....

You guys get the first look at it!!!!

~Prologue~

There’s nothing worse than when your plans fall through. You
could have the best intentions, and then all of a sudden, it crumbles all
around you.

It didn't matter how big or small the mission. Fate has a
way of screwing with everyone, even a killer.

You can strategize, plan, and structure everything to the minutest
of details, and it will still go to hell in a hand basket.

Look at this situation.

The big plan was to sneak into the house, leave the bloody
calling card, and escape into the quiet of the day.

Simple, right?

Only, that wasn’t what was happening.

Oh, getting into the house was fairly simple. All that had
to be done was wait until the wife left to do the grocery shopping, and then
get down to business. By the time she returned, with her bags of food, it would
be over.

As would be her husband’s life.

Yet, that wasn’t what was destined to happen. Fate decided
to throw in a monkey wrench and screw with everyone involved. Who knew that the
Fed’s wife was going to forget her coupons, having to return to the quiet of
the house for them?

Certainly not the killer.

Oh, but that bitch Fate, she knew.

It was all in the universe’s master plan.

For the killer, if there was any inkling that this mess was
going to happen, there would have been a contingency plan. Instead, the one who
broke into their quaint house was just placing the bloody handprint on the wall
when there was a noise.

“Shit!”

Before there could be a hasty escape, the wife walked right
into the living room and found the intruder.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, backing out carefully.
Then, she saw the gun and froze. “You can have whatever you want. Please, don’t
hurt me. My husband is in the FBI. He’ll find you if you hurt me!”

There was nothing but sardonic laughter that filled the
room. Oh, the intruder was well aware that her husband was with the Feds. In
fact, he was the reason for the visit.

She could blame him for her untimely death when they met in
the afterlife.

“Move closer and don’t make a sound, or I’ll kill you.” The
statement was shrouded with total lies. This woman was going to be one more on
the list of those who must die.

Only, she wasn’t a target.

She was collateral damage.

“Turn around and let me tie you up. Then, I’ll be gone.”

The woman relaxed marginally, already memorizing everything
about the intruder’s face. When she saw her husband, she would describe
everything. After all, being the wife of a Fed meant getting the job done. This
home invader didn't have a snowball’s chance in hell.

Putting on faux sweetness to mask the fear, she spoke, “Thank
you for not hurting me,” she offered softly, trying to bullshit her way through
the next few minutes. “I promise I won’t go to the cops.”

Which wasn’t exactly a lie.

She was going to the FBI instead.

The intruder said nothing, only flipped the gun to use the butt
to do all the dirty work. With one swing, there was contact and the sick
crunching of bone as metal met skull.

The woman crumbled to the ground in a heap.

Unfortunately for her, it wouldn’t end there. The strike
wasn’t enough to kill, and the intruder knew the truth. There could be no loose
ends, and this woman was a huge problem.

Careful not to leave any evidence behind, hands wrapped
around her neck and squeezed until the shallow breathing slowly came to a stop.

It was done.

“I’m sorry, but you came home. You weren’t supposed to die,
but think of it this way- now you won’t have to attend your dear husband’s
funeral. I’ve given you a gift. You’ve been spared the heartbreak of that.”

Checking her pulse to assure she was indeed dead, the killer
went back to work, placing the bloody print on the wall. This day was an
unmitigated disaster, and hopefully the second part would go more smoothly.

As the red dripped down the wall, the killer was incredibly
proud of the plan, and the calling card being left behind. The FBI would never
trace it back, since all precautions were taken. Fate may like to throw
everyone for a loop, but planning was key.

The intruder wasn’t stupid.

Not by a long shot.

Stepping over the woman, lying prone on the floor, it was
time to get across town to take care of the true business at hand.

Her husband.

The best agent was a dead agent.

That was for sure.

Once that trigger was pulled, there could be no mistake this
time.

Justice was on the horizon for those who no longer had a
voice of their own.

“Let’s get this show on the road. I have work to do.”

***

Across Vegas

Just Outside of Town

Greyson Croft
despised bullshit.

It was one of the things he didn't have much patience for in
his life. His days were so jam packed with FBI related work, that the next
thing he would be forced to give up, would either be sleep or sex with his
wife.

Goodbye sleep.

The other option was never happening, even if he started to
resemble the walking dead. A man had to have priorities, and his wife was going
to be number one on that list.

Yet, that wasn’t the worst of his problems.

Now, he had some serious anger issues. There was an asshole
with one mission in mind.

Infuriate the head Fed.

It pissed Greyson off to no end, that he was being called
out in his own town. Maybe it was ego, or maybe it was the simple fact that the
second he took the job in Vegas, he was a marked man. Either way, someone was
screwing with him, and he didn't doubt that this new call was part of it.

Someone liked playing games, and he was caught in the midst
of it.

As his team milled around the field, they looked for the
victim who had been called in. An anonymous tip was relayed into their hotline,
saying that another body had been left, and this was the location.

Only, he didn't see anything.

Well, that wasn’t true. He saw his team milling around, the
ME looking befuddled, and his watch ticking away precious seconds.

Something had to be here.

For the last few weeks, they had been turning up bodies. Not
just any bodies mind you, but dead Feds. After Christmas, there had been an
onslaught of issues dumped onto his already burdened shoulders. For the last
three weeks, there had been murdered agents left for him to find. One was taken
out in the front seat of his car, another on his way into the building, and then
one was even in his kitchen making coffee.

Now, Greyson was on a scavenger hunt.

The prize?

A dead comrade.

It pissed him off like nothing else. Not only because
someone was killing the good guys, but because they were screwing with him.
Greyson loathed jumping through hoops.

This was an affront to his manhood, and when he got his
hands on the killer, heads were going to roll.

That was if they caught him.

To add insult to injury, not only was the killer taking
innocent lives, but he was taunting them. At every victim’s house, he was
leaving behind a calling card.

Oh, it wasn’t a love note, proclaiming a reason for the
madness, but instead it was one single bloody handprint. As hard as they tried,
no one could figure out the meaning. It was like trying to decipher a clue,
which was still locked in the mind of a madman.

It was frustrating.

It was irritating.

It was driving him bat shit insane.

So much so, that he was losing sleep over it. At least with
the last big serial killer they encountered, he had a clue why. Kris Kringle
was taking a list of those he perceived to be ‘naughty and nice’. This asshole
was just killing his men and leaving a handprint.

In his book, a cop killer was the lowest of low.

Something had to be done, and he’d made this his personal
mission. He didn't have time to be working on it, but Greyson had a
responsibility to the fallen.

To HIS men.

Glancing around the open field, he took in the surrounding
area. If the killer had left a body here, then it had to be underground. It was
a flat piece of land surrounded by trees and some hills in the distance. He
would have had to drive in, bury the remains, and then drive out.

“Start digging,” he yelled, as his team made crisscross
patterns with ground penetrating radar, trying to find the body.

Someone had to be here, and if it was a Fed, he was bringing
them home.

Suddenly, there was a shout.

“Over here!” yelled one of his agents, waving frantically.

He had Greyson’s full attention as he crossed to him, but he
wasn’t alone. Unfortunately, as the second his agent called out, it stirred up
the media which was being held behind the crime scene tape. They were desperate
for anything at that point. When the big man in Vegas headed to the field,
something huge was brewing.

So, of course they were going to be there. Why wouldn’t they
be? After all, they followed him everywhere he went. Home, work, the grocery
store, and even when he bought gifts for his wife. The pariahs of society were
dogging his every move.

“What do you have?” he asked, ignoring the calls from the TV
crews and reporters. It sickened him that the media vultures were already all
over this, giving this bastard what he wanted.

Attention.

It was bad enough that he had his sole focus, but now the
world was his audience. If this wasn’t a priority one case, he’d be back in his
office doing paperwork and day dreaming about his feisty little kitten, Emma.

Yeah, this killer was a huge asshole for so many reasons.

“We have something poking out of the ground,” Agent Jamie
Price said, glancing up at her boss. She was in awe to be able to work with the
man. When she transferred out from the east coast, she wanted into his division
in the worst way. Everyone heard about the ‘Ice King’ and his closure rate.
Yeah, he was tough, but that was okay. She wanted to be the best, and working
under him was the way to do it.

Besides, it was easy to go to work every day when the scenery
was this fine. From her boss’s staggering gray eyes to his sexily tousled black
hair, it made everything else fall away. Granted, he was a married man, but all
the ladies on his staff liked to check out Greyson Croft.

You had to be blind or dead to not notice him.

Maybe it was that scar across his cheek, or the whiskey
smooth voice, which gave a girl chills. Everyone found something different to
like about him, but one thing was for damn sure.

His wife was a lucky woman.

“What is it?” he asked, crouching down beside the ME and his
agents.

It was the doctor who spoke first, “Director, I think we’ve
found your body,” he said, touching the protruding object with his gloved
fingers.

Croft glanced over at the man. “Doctor Bentley, get your
team to dig him up ASAP. I want to know who we have, so we can find this
asshole and stop the games.”

The ME knew the Fed well enough to see he wasn’t in the mood
for chitchat. He and Croft were building a pretty decent relationship between
them. Granted, the man was still suspicious of him and his friendship with
Emma, but it was getting better. At least now, they could have some banter and
easy conversation.

Then again, could he blame the man? When you found love, you
had to hold onto it with all you had. While Emma Croft was one of his closest
friends at work, he had no sexual attraction to her whatsoever. With any luck,
Greyson Croft would figure that out, and he could add him to his small circle
of friends.

Hopefully.

“Step back, Director, and we’ll get right on it,” he
replied, waving his team of techs over. They would start the long tedious
process of extricating the body from the makeshift grave.

Croft did just that, as he pulled out his phone and began
ripping off text messages to the rest of his team. He was bumping this to
priority one. At this point, he didn't care what everyone was working on. If
they were in-house, they were pulling duty on this one. He’d justify the
overtime to his bosses later. Already, they knew what he was dealing with and had
offered their support.

As he moved to give the team room, Greyson could hear the
calls from the media and chose to ignore them. As long as he kept his back to
them, they couldn’t get any on-air shots of his face, and the anger plastered
there.

Hate was more like it.

You’d think by now they’d know him well enough. He wasn’t
going to give them jack shit, but they couldn’t let it go.

No, wouldn’t let it go.

When they began throwing out his wife’s name, he fought not
to spin around and give them all hell. Greyson knew they were well aware of his
one weakness, and that they would use it. Instinct won over intelligence. With
a quick glance at them, the look must have said it all, because the noise
quieted down.

“I have the report in on the last victim,” he offered, pulling
out his phone to start breaking it down for his boss. For the last few hours,
he’d been working tirelessly on it in an effort to impress the man.

“Let me hear what you have,” Croft said, moving to face him.
As his back remained to the crowd, Lester Williams had a bird’s eye view.

“They’re crazy,” he muttered, staring over his boss’s
shoulder.

“Yeah, almost as nutty as this killer. I hope you have
something we can use, because I’m getting damn tired of this bullshit.”

Yeah, everyone was well aware that with each dead Fed,
Greyson Croft was one step closer to losing his mind. “Yes, sir,” he said, as
he began relaying his report.

***

Sitting in the distance, the killer watched the FBI in their
spiffy blue and gold jackets. If they only knew that wearing them to a crime
scene made them easier targets, they wouldn’t be so willing to sport the team
colors.

Now would they?

Just aligning themselves with the most corrupt entity on the
planet made them easy pickings. Pulling the trigger had been incredibly easy
the last three weeks, since it was all in the spirit of an eye for an eye.

Who could point the finger of blame, when the job at hand
was wiping the corrupt from the game?

This was a mission which couldn’t be turned down.

It was in the blood.

It was a calling.

Staring down the sight of the Remington M24 sniper rifle,
the next victim was picked out. It was easy to find him in the crowd as he
stood there among the others. When the time was right, he’d be meeting his
maker and taking his sins to a higher power.

Then, he’d be judged by God for the crimes he committed.

That would be justice enough.

Hell was certainly going to be one hot place to spend the
rest of his sin-filled afterlife.

Getting ready, the killer let out the held breath, focused
on the target, and prepared to make the kill.

Revenge was coming, and it was well past due.

Nothing could stop it now. Those who committed the crime
needed to suffer, and this was the only way to pay for their sins.

The game was in play, and the victory would go to those who
were on the side of justice.

The bolt slid back and the killer’s finger was on the
trigger, ready to make history.

In three.

Two.

One….

PS.SURRRRRRRPRRRRIIIIZZZZEEEEE! I hope you liked the preview. If you're reading this, you're also the first to know that it's been released! You can find it here. Because I love you all best, you get a day head start!